Getting Attached
by CrazedHumor
Summary: AU sorta  I've moved around my entire live and in doing so, I learned to not get attached to anyone or anything. There was only one exception. One person that didn't seem to change or leave me behind...even against the distance between us. Nick POV NIFF
1. Learning to Manage

**Author:** CrazedHumor

**Title: **Getting Attached

**Rated: **PG-17 (swearing and fantasies to come)

**Summary: (AU sorta)** I've moved around my entire live and in doing so, I learned to not get attached to anyone or anything. There was only one exception. Nick POV. Niff.

**A/N: **I starting this story thinking it was going to be a raunchy and quick. But, I guess my fingers decided on something else entirely. This is the story I came up with for Nick and Jeff from before Dalton Academy to the present. (From Nick's point of view.) Also, sorry if there are errors. Currently looking for a Beta…Also, I only now about the military from what my friend in the Marines told me, please excuse mistakes and let me know so I can fix.

Enjoy!

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><p>I hate it when people call me Nicky.<p>

I've been going to Dalton since freshman year, when I transferred from a small school in Wisconsin. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Starting off high school by moving, yet again, had turned out to be the best thing to happen in my life. We had moved around a lot, and it was good knowing that this time I wouldn't have to transfer between semesters.

I'm an army brat. Or, at least I was.

My father has been in the military nearly all his life. As soon as he had graduated high school he had been shipped off and sent into the army and ever since then he'd do nothing but travel since, taking part in training new recruits and giving inspirational speeches about his time in the Cold War. He met my mother at one of the bases he had been stationed at just few years before I was born. She was a local beauty, known for her sweetness, good looks, and smarts to back it up. At first, my mom told me, she didn't like him at all. She said men came and went all the time throwing themselves at her when they would leave only a few weeks later. But, I guess he had done something right, because eventually she caved and agreed to go on a date. Later they kept in touch through letters. Then one day, out of no where, he showed up on her doorstep, dressed as a normal civilian, and asked her to marry him.

They were together from that moment forward.

Only three years later they had me.

I never knew what it was like to have a home full of memories.

It was in fifth grade, when I had attended a public elementary school in Florida. Usually, children of the military stayed in the school that was provided on the base. It was easier to make friends that way and all of us understood each other. However, my mother insisted that I get what little interaction with the outside world that I could, and so I attended the closest public school in the area. I had met up with a few other brats that lived close to the base too. All of us had been moving for as long as we could remember, not staying in one place for more than a few months. This time had been no exception. Only after six months, we had moved on to the next location. Before my father had taken me away though, I had met another kid my age. Jeff. We hit it off instantly.

A lot of the kids on the bases were either into things revolving around the military or didn't want anything to do with it. I was a rebel. I loved anything related to pop culture. Lock me up in a room with some music, a few video games, and some kickass movies and I could be entertained for weeks. Jeff was the same way. We bonded over games and dancing, rebelling against our fathers' heavy thumbs.

During the time we lived on the same base, Jeff's mom and dad separated. His mother decided that they had had enough. Though our fathers were rarely at "home", when Jeff's dad _was_ there, there were endless midnight fights and scream filled days. Our mothers were friends, their relationship probably growing from the same issues of having to constantly move, dealing with their husbands, and having the same views on their children taking part in public schools. Which is why, I think, what happened next wasn't much of a surprise.

One day Jeff came over, luggage in hand, smiling the biggest smile I had ever seen. "Nick! We're gonna be roommates!" I remember him saying this and the hug I had given him in return.

We became inseparable. He lived in our house, staying over nearly every night unless his mother dictated otherwise. We got ready together in the mornings, sat together at lunch, rode the bus back home, helped each other with our homework at night, and got ready for bed together. In our free time we would banter back and forth about comic book heroes or sit in front of the tv playing the newest game that had been released. Some days were harder than others. He missed his mom and dad more often than not, as any 10 year old would. It had become routine for four months. It was a nice routine. It was one of the few things that stayed steady in my life.

At first he hated crying in front of me. He use to get mad at himself and tell me it was nothing...until one night when his mom had taken him home. Early in the morning...hours before school was even suppose to start, there had been a knock on the door and my father opened it to show Jeff and one of the Generals on location.

I remember my dad flicking on my light and telling me that Jeff needed to squeeze in with me because he had to leave his house early this time. Just as soon as my dad was there, he was gone and we were left in the dark.

Jeff was laying next to me, facing away and toward my closet. I felt the bed shake slightly and when I turned over to look at him, his shoulders were shaking, head tucked into his chest. I had lifted my hand to him then, reaching out to touch his back comfortingly. "Jeff?" He had winced and I took my hand back, frowning and sitting up. "Jeff. What happened?"

He didn't say anything. To this day, I don't think he _could_. He just shook his head against his chest and curled into a tighter ball. Somehow I had coaxed him into turning over so that he was facing me and through the light that shone through the window, I saw the tear streaks that were slowly crawling down his face. Without thinking, I lifted my hand to wipe them away like a good friend and sighed with sadness. I told him that '_everything was going to be ok and that he could live here as long as he wanted and that we'd be friends forever and that we'd get out of here soon'_. I didn't ask him more about what had happened, because I knew he couldn't talk even if he wanted to. He had only been able to utter one word for the, what seemed like, hours that I listened to him cry.

_Nicky._

Eventually he fell asleep, our arms awkwardly entwined between us because I was scared to let go for fear that he would wake up and forget where he was. That he would think he was back at his house again, instead of his _home_.

It was the next morning that he showed me them. There had been a fight. Jeff had gotten involved...and he had the bruises on his back to prove it.

And so he lived with us. He became my best friend and my brother.

I knew it would end eventually. It was a hopeless cause. Army brats, no matter the situation, never stayed in one location for long. As one, you learn that you don't get attached to anyone or anything for long. Jeff's mother found a house in California and took him with her.

I remember the moment he left like it was only last night. I remember waking up and looking over at the empty space next to me and realizing that my best friend wasn't there anymore...and that he had gone to his _other _home the night before to pack what he had left there. I remember looking to the closet and not seeing his usual bright shirts against my dark clothes that we shared and not fully understanding why they weren't there. I remember looking toward the corner of our room where Jeff's suitcase usually lay with some of his games and toys that he loved and not seeing it there amongst the clutter of my things. His shoes that had ones been mixed in with mine at the bottom of a chest in our closet had disappeared. The hook with my jacket on the back of our door now had a bare hook next to it that once held up Jeff's bright windbreaker.

Later that day, I remember, the car pulled up with Jeff in the front seat, frowning at me through the front window. When he got out I had hugged him as hard as I could. I hoped that the harder I hugged the more I'd rub off on him, some sort of scent or indents that I would leave behind would remind him that I still existed and everything that had happened between us. When he would be in California. Almost 3,000 miles away.

As he and his mom pulled away from our house I didn't look away. I remember thinking of how uncool I was for crying and how much I didn't want to go back to being an only child...and how much I already missed him.

I had reached up to brush the tears away with my sleeve, when my hoodie make a crinkling noise. I had looked down, and saw an indent in the front pocket. Curiously, I reached inside to find a ripped piece of paper out of a notebook. It had an address scribbled in small, yet neat, letters that was obviously Jeff's hand writing.

_Nicky, you better write to me every day. _

And I had.

Well, not literally. But every few days I wrote letters to keep Jeff updated about what was happening on my end: how school was, what sports I played, how things were at home. He wrote back every time, informing me of the same.

He would constantly write about how he wished he was back in Florida and how hard it was to make friends at his new school. He missed his dad too, for everything that had happened. On the bright side, they had a wider arrange of classes and he was allowed to take dance lessons after school like he had always wanted, both ballet and hip-hop. Every now and then we would catch each other on the phone, ranting about our days, the stupid people at school, and how Wolverine and Spiderman should just team up and be the most awesome duo ever.

After Jeff left, the amount of moving on my end didn't waver. My father would walk into my room and just by the look on his face I knew what was happening. It got to the point where he didn't need to say anything and I'd stand up and grab the boxes at the back of my closet and the luggage under my bed, only asking him where we were going this time.

And every time I would wait, back to him, hoping that the next base would be located somewhere over on the west coast.

Every time it was no where near California.

I broke down in middle school.

One time I had moved to Wisconsin of all places and found myself in a new school, with new rules, and trying to make new friends. Classes were different there. Block scheduling was little to unheard of, so the days seemed to pass faster than normal. Everyone was nice enough, welcoming me even with my weird background.

I went on my first date in eighth grade. Not that I would call it a date. We were 14. Teenagers and ready to act like we were adults. Middle school was all about finding a place to fit in: creating who you were going to be in high school and looking to be someone the kids younger than you respected and the older kids smiled at. Homecoming, though middle schoolers had nothing to do with, was a formality. Everyone would go, get together in their groups, and huddle somewhere in the background of the game. The night was full of drama, breakups, and "scandals."

I had been asked to the game by a girl in my grade through a note her best friend had given me. Yeah, wrap your head around that. It was a "romantic" gesture at the time.

So, when I showed up, mother dropping me off at the gate, I found the group of guys I normally hung out with and stood with them for a while, talking about nothing in particular. Meanwhile, every now and then I would see the girl that had asked me out talking in her group of friends not too far away. Though we never stayed together in a single place for long, she laughed at me at the end of the night and told me she had a good time. Then she kissed me on the cheek before her cell phone went off, and she was beckoned to her ride.

The next day I had called Jeff, telling him the story about how the whole thing was an epic fail and yet it was the only thing anyone at school would talk about. That supposedly her and I were "dating."

And then something interesting had happened.

"Well, did _you_ like it?"

And I remember sitting there...having to _really_ think about the answer to it. The night had been fun. We had won the game and I had joked around with the rest of the guys the majority of the time. When she was around it wasn't much different. The only thing that had changed was that the circle of friends had gotten bigger.

"Yeah...I mean, it wasn't bad or anything. She was pretty cool."

And Jeff hadn't asked me anything about the date after that. I didn't mention the kiss.

I had expected Jeff to bring something up about _him_ dating. We would constantly talk online and by the looks of his pictures he had uploaded he had a lot more friends than he had implied. He seemed to be constantly surrounded by girls and boys alike, smiling in almost every single picture whether they were by the pool, on the football field, or at someone's house. He too, had gone to his homecoming game, though he said his team had lost.

He didn't say if he had taken a date.

It only a month after that that my mother passed away.

One night she had gone to sleep and the next morning she just didn't wake up.

My father was the one that found her. He had woken up, rolled over to give her a kiss like he did every other morning, and instead he had noticed her lack of movement. The next thing I knew there were police and EMT's everywhere.

I had never seen my father cry. Not once in my short 14 years of life, through all his broken bones, family deaths, and arguments with my mother, I had _never_ seen him shed a tear.

Then, for nearly a week straight he had cried over the loss of my mother until we finally laid her to rest in a plot in Ohio near her home town.

I don't remember much about that week. Sleeping. Eyes hurting. Constant headaches. Screaming. Breaking everything around me.

I didn't know what to feel. I wouldn't answer phone calls or text messages. I had shut my phone off after a day of texts from Jeff and didn't talk to anyone for three days.

I had two stable things in my life: my mother and Jeff.

I lost one of them.

Finally, after days of just sitting in my room and silently laying there with my pillow tucked under my head, imagining it was someone else, I took out my computer, hooked up the webcam, and waited for Jeff to call me.

I didn't let it ring once before I answered.

The screen came on, and there sat Jeff, 2,000 miles away from me, face covered in tears just as thick as mine.

At first we didn't say anything. Then-

"Why are you crying?" I asked him.

"Because you're_ hurting_." He sniffled and wiped his nose, looking away from me for a moment.

I stared at him for what seemed like forever until I finally let it all out. I cried in front of my best friend for hours telling him things I had never told anyone and venting to him about all of it. I went through all the _what ifs, hows_, and _buts_ of my entire life as he listened to every word in earnest, every now and then breaking my thoughts to tell me something soothing.

Towards the end of my conversation, when I had nothing else to say and yet so much, he looked directly into the camera and told me how much how much he hated not being here. How he would do _anything _to be with me this second so that he could help me. That he wished he wasn't so far away so that he could be here for me like I was for him so long ago.

I remembered shaking my head at him, breaking my lips into a smile that I hadn't shown in nearly a week, and told him, "Jeff. Even though you're 2,000 miles away it still feels like you're right here beside me. Thank you." My smile broke wider when I saw the corners of his mouth turn up in just the slightest way and small wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.

It was then that it happened.

Something inside was turning. Thoughts at the back of my head began to shift and I felt _something_ _**twist**_in my stomach and my hear skipped a beat at the last thing I had said...

I quickly recovered myself. "You're my best _friend_...you know that, right?" I had laughed pitifully, to cover up any... _discomfort _I felt.

Jeff eyed me quickly, smile never fading, though the light in his eyes seemed to dim. "Yeah. Of course, Nicky."

I had nodded, thanked him, and told him that I'd call him later. I had shut my computer screen while laying my hands on top of them and blinked in confusion. I only had one thought.

_What the hell had just happened?_

The months passed by slowly. The days were hard and the nights were harder. With my mom...no longer there...I was left at home alone a lot of the time while my dad worked at the base. Any free time I had away from chores I spent skyping Jeff whenever he wasn't at practice. A lot of the time we would set our computers to the side of our desks and work on our homework, leaving the call going just so that we'd be "in the same room" as each other.

Sometimes I wondered why he continued to do this with me. I always thought I was holding him back from anything happening over there in his real life. While he was sitting on the computer talking to me he could have been outside with his friends, going to parties, meeting girls... Then I would shake myself free from these thoughts, because it seemed like whenever this happened, Jeff could _hear _them and he'd crack a joke from where he sat on my desk like he was trying to make me feel better.

At times I also thought it was weird. I had only known this guy for six months in the fifth grade and here I was, four years later, on the computer with him like nothing had changed. I hadn't even physically been in the same room with him once throughout those four years and yet I _knew _things were fine between us. He was one of those few people I could sit in a room with in complete silence and it _wouldn't _be weird.

I tried to let it not bother me at _how much _I wanted to _be in _the same room as him.

In May my father did what he did every other time. He knocked softly on my door and stood in the doorway looking at me. I sighed, hanging my head low and already reaching for the luggage beneath my bed.

"We're not moving yet."

I paused, hand on the handle of my bag.

"You're moving in August. To Ohio. Close to your mother."

I had nodded, not realizing what he had said. When I finally did, I turned to him, brow together in confusion. "What?"

My dad wasn't one for talking. He let things speak for themselves. He complied this time, however. "Your mother...she-For the longest time she wanted you to go to a boarding school. Not because she didn't want you with us, that was her biggest fear...but because she wanted you to grow up right. With friends and good schooling." He ran a hand through what was left of his hair. "She didn't want you to grow up like this..." I heard his voice crack, but didn't show him that I noticed. He had breathed in deep. "So, I'm enrolling you in Dalton Academy. It's a private all boys school in Westerville. It has dorm rooms. The army is going to pay for everything. I've been called out, again, to go to South Carolina...and who knows how long I'm going to stay there."

He looked up at me with a pleading look in his eyes for me to understand.

I did. He was abiding by what mom wanted. Somewhat of a last wish...

So, in a few months I was going to be living in a dorm at an all boys school. At the time I was let down. My mother had just passed away only months before and my father was already shipping me off to be out on my own. What I didn't know...was it was going to be the best four years of my life.

I spent the next months looking up anything having to do with this new school I was going to and slowly let it sank in that I would be _living _there and that it would be my _home _for four years.

It would be the longest time I have every stayed in one place.

I told Jeff right away, sharing my screen with him so that he could see the place I was talking about. It's website seemed pretty pristine. Apparently, it was a prestigious school known for their "zero tolerance" policy and glee club. Though I didn't think I had reason to worry about the zero tolerance policy, I had raised my brow at the glee club. Videos had been posted online of their performances and they seemed pretty stiff. The most movement they had was their swaying.

I also remember lifting my brow with a smirk, "_Challenge accepted_."

The more and more I talked about it the more I worried how bummed Jeff would be and whether he would get annoyed at me for going on and on about their all-you-can-eat buffet. Until, that is, I realized he was _genuinely _excited for me. Almost _more _excited than I was. He would pull up chat conversations with people who were or had been going to Dalton and show me how cool the school actually was, minus the fact that it was girless.

Somehow, that didn't bother me though. At the time I thought I was just too excited to finally have a place to _stay_ rather than worry about the opposite sex.

I packed my things one last time and my dad drove me to Ohio.

The drive there wasn't too bad. We mostly kept quiet and listened to whatever we could find on the radio. A few times we passed things that brought up conversation, but nothing too extensive. It had been like this between us for years: Never really knowing each other, yet so close. We were comfortable with it.

I remember as we passed by the scenery on the way to Ohio, though there wasn't much to look at, I was still excited to be able say that this was the _last _time I would be moving until graduation. I could finally throw away the boxes that I had once kept so close at hand. My luggage would sit in storage, gathering dust, rather than taking up space beneath my bed. Though I'm sure they wouldn't allow much of a change to the room, I would be able to put up posters and pictures and calanders that _wouldn't _be ripped down weeks later. It would be _my _room.

Well, our room. But, at the time I didn't know who my roommate was going to be. I was just hoping we were going to get alone.

When we reached Dalton, the first thing that happened was a quick tour of the dorms. They showed my father and I where I would be staying and where some of the closer classrooms were, even though I knew most of this just from the research that I had been doing with Jeff. The rest of the bedrooms were empty and locked besides mine, the students having yet returned from break and the freshmen due to show up in about a week. They had made a special arrangement for me due to the circumstances of my father.

My dad helped me take all of my things from the car to my room, stacking them in piles on my bed and across the floor. The spare bed next to mine had still been empty and when I noticed and asked the Principal about it, he said that the boy would be arrive shortly and that he had flown out yesterday and stayed in a hotel last night. They had also making an exception for him, apparently. I remember nodding in approval and not thinking twice about it, instead, I walked with my father back to his car and stood there for a few moments in silence.

My father and I had a rough relationship. We were tethered together by my mother. We loved each other, really, we did, but our anchor was gone and now it was harder than ever for us to understand each other. I didn't get his obsession with such a chaotic live and he didn't understand my passion for music and games.

When I hugged my father, for the first time in years, I felt everything pass between us. It was like everything we'd been meaning to say, '_I'm so sorry, goodbye, I love you, I'll miss you, call me, dad, son, I know" _was all expressed into one moment of contact between us, not needing to say anything out loud because we _knew _everything was going to be alright between us and we _knew _how much we loved each other...and we knew this was right.

I waved goodbye to him, watching until he passed behind a line of trees where I could no longer see.

I went directly back to my room, laying on my back and staring up at the ceiling I would live under for my entire span of high school. It wasn't exactly normal, going to a school where I would lived with a bunch of other guys that I didn't yet know, but I knewit would _become_ normal. I was thrilled.

I had unpacked for hours. I took my time, _this time_, first taking out my sterio and blasting the speakers with any type of upbeat music I had on hand. I had taken out pictures over the years, looked at them as they slowly covered the wall over my desk. I saw myself over the years, my face grew older and more defined from one to another. Some were filled with my mother and father and random candids. Some were taken with friends that I had made over the years and I still kept in touch with. Nearly a third of them were pictures of my time in Florida and skyping sessions.

I couldn't help but smile. So much had happened throughout the years. I knew I was going to have to tell nearly every guy I met my story, over and over until I got sick of it and ended up shortening the story to, "I'm an army brat. I moved around a lot. Then I moved here."

I pulled out my computer, debating whether or not I should check to see if he was online so I could show Jeff my new room and home. I knew he would be excited for me and that he was probably anxiously waiting for my status to go "online" where he sat at his next on the west coast.

Insead, I went through the last box and moved over to the large tv to set up my gaming system when there was a knock at the door that I had left ajar. I didn't move though, because my hands were tangled in the wired mess. "Hey, hold on. I'm a little..."

I grunted, and freed my hand from the mess and stood up, turning around to greet whoever it was that had entered. I figured that it was going to be the principal again, checking in on me, or my new roommate, so I smiled and motioned to put up my hand for them to shake...but I couldn't.

Instead, I stood there, mouth agape, heart bursting against my rip cage.

"Hey, man. Sorry to cramp your style. Guess I'm gonna be your new roommate." The blonde laughed and set down the box he had been holding.

My ears were ringing with his voice and I nearly fell over when I crossed the room in three strides to encase my arms around my best friend that I hadn't _seen _in nearly five years.

He did the same, moving his arms as well as he could under mine to hug back and I felt him smile into my hair. "_Hey, Nicky_."

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><p><em><strong>DON'T FREAK OUT<strong>_

_**THERE WILL BE A PART TWO**_

It'll pick up _exactly _where this lift off. Questions will be answered. Niff will be had. Full of fluff…now that I think about it…there _may_ be three parts…

Let me know what you guys think! 3 Sorry that there was little Niff in this section, but the story had to be set _first_.


	2. Things Change

**Author:** CrazedHumor

**Title: **Getting Attached

**Rated: **PG-17 (swearing and fantasies to come)

**Summary: (AU sorta)** I've moved around my entire life and in doing so, I learned to not get attached to anyone or anything. There was only one exception. Nick POV. Niff.

**A/N: **Don't hate me. This chapter just answers so many things**...it's so fucking long, nearly twice as three thousand words more, I think? AND I HAD TO.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1.5: Things Change<strong>

(Jeff's POV)

I don't know how people come up with nicknames for "Jeff," but somehow it happens by just adding '-ster' or 'ie'...and I've never liked it much.

When I was fourteen I started going to Dalton Academy in Ohio. Before that, though, I lived in California and before _that_...well I had live in a few different places. North Carolina, Nevada, Colorado, Texas, Florida, and those are the places I actually _remember _living. I'm what you would call an army brat. Or, at least I was up until fifth grade. Not to sound cliché' but that was when _everything _changed.

Growing up had been a lot different than most families I knew. Instead of just sticking to one home with one yard where all sorts of memories were made, I moved from house to house where I can mostly remember the packing and unpacking parties me and my mom took part in. I can still hear the songs we use to sing with each other, from the Disney soundtracks of the movies we use to watch on family night to her favorite Beatles songs. Even though I didn't really get the chance to make a lot of memories during elementary school, the ones that I _can_ remember are my favorites...and least favorites.

My father and mother were childhood friends. Well, that was kind of an exaggeration. Actually, in high school, they hated each other. Absolutely loathed each other. My father was the typical jock, tall and muscular and the star of the basketball team, and I guess he had the ego to back it up. Meanwhile, my mom was more of a bookworm. She use to tell me that she spent most of her time in the library reading and when she wasn't there, she was worked with her singing group, which I could easily be called a glee club.

So, yeah, they were on different sides of the spectrum. It wasn't until Dad got back from his time in boot camp that they even looked at each other without cringing. They had literally bumped into each other at the carnival, ran their eyes over one another, and went on their way. Days later, while dad was working a quick shift at the local market, he had asked her out like a proper gentleman and she had said yes, completely swooned by the charm he had somehow picked up while away.

_Their _parents were friends for years and as soon as they had heard about it, they had basically been stuck with each there, dating for nearly ten years before they got married and had me. For the longest time mom would call me their "love" child.

I try not to think what that implies.

As soon as dad was called out to "serve his country", which somehow involved traveling across the states and working from base to base, mom packed our things, me not yet old enough for my first word, and headed out east.

Whenever I try to remember anything before Florida, my head gets kind of light and the images in my head become fuzzy, though I can see snapshots of things here and there. Some of the easiest things were the Rockies and Washington...the rest were events I tried not to think about...But it wasn't until Florida that things seemed to really play out and my images turn into movies.

Even though I didn't know anything other than being an army brat, every time I moved I was forced to make new friends, call the new location a home, and once again adjust to the schedule. Things were different for kids like us. There wasn't really a steady criteria for kids in the army and everyone was at a different level of learning, no matter their age. Which is why my mother, after the first three times of moving, insisted that I started attending public school. She said that even though I would have to adjust, at least they knew I was up to speed of the rest of the kids my age. That _and_ she wanted to make sure I knew there was life outside of the bases we stayed on.

One day the camp was holding a banquette for all the families on location. My father introduced my mother and I to another family, which later turned out to be Nick's.

When I met Nick, another kid that lived on the base and attended the same public that I did, I was ecstatic. We were into the same things, comic books, video games, movies, music, sports, and all of these things were nearly untouchable to the other kids in our situation. Whenever I had tried to talk to other children like me that didn't have much outside interaction, they would just stare at me like what I was talking about was futuristic or unheard of. The fact that I had _finally _found another kid that I could relate to...it was comforting that I wasn't the only odd man out and _that_ made me stuck to his hip right from the very beginning: we were so different from everyone else but so alike each other.

It was the best family I could have become a part of. To this day I regret not thanking them more for everything they did for me, but at the time I didn't really understand just how much they were doing.

I know my mother and father loved each other. They would tell each other just how much over the morning cup of coffee they had and they would hug one another goodbye every time dad had to leave through the front door. That didn't stop them from fighting.

Families, parents, fight. I had known that since I was in first grade and one of my fellow classmate's parents got in an argument while on a school trip, where they started cursing and yelling in front of the entire group of 6 year olds and the teachers had to put them into groups. But...my parents were a little different.

At night my father would get home, almost early into the morning, and trudge to the living room where he'd find himself sinking into his armchair. Only minutes later my mom would get up from her bed, seemingly unheard by me, and make her way to him downstairs where she would find him passed out in the chair in a drunken heap.

At the time I didn't know much about what was going on. It had happened before Florida too...I hardly remember a time when it hadn't...but it wasn't until later that I found out about his alcohol problem and his tendencies toward younger women. All I knew was that every now and then, whether it was days or weeks apart between episodes, my dad would get carried away and my mom would end up crying...

She _hated _when I heard them. I knew it was hurting her that _I _knew what was going on. So one day she told me to pick some of my favorite toys out and helped me pack one of my suitcases. She tried to explain to me that it would be better for me if I stayed over at a friends house for a little while and she kept repeating over and over how much she loved me and that she would talk to me every day, but that her and dad had to work on a few things first.

I remember getting in the car completely confused as to where we were going. There weren't many people around us that we really knew. That is except for the Duvals...And when we pulled up to their house I was smiling harder than I had in the _longest _time. All I remember thinking was '_I'm going to be living with my bestest friend ever'_. I walked up to their front door, one of my hands in my mother's and the other one occupied by my rolling luggage and stood there until Nick's mother answered. Immediately, my mother started talking to in a whisper.

If I really concentrate on it, I can almost hear the desperateness in her voice, pleading with Nick's mom to take me in so that I didn't have to be around what was happening back at our house. Soon enough Nick was called down from upstairs and I couldn't contain myself. I was practically yelling when I told him that we were going to be roommates and that I was going to be living with him, I was so excited.

I remember dropping the suitcase I was holding because Nick had hugged me so tight that I had no choice but to hug back.

After that we did everything together. There wasn't a time of the day when we had the chance to be with each other that we weren't. He would wake me up in the morning to tell me to get ready for school. We met at the same table every day at lunch, sometimes joined by other kids who cared to interact with us, though they rarely stuck around. We rode the bus back home together, talking about what kind of homework each of our teachers handed out for the day and when we got home we'd take a snack up to his room and work on it together.

Too many times I would forget that they _weren't _my family and that I wouldn't be able to stay there forever.

At night I would completely forget about that thought. Many nights we'd stay up, laying next to each other in his bed, and stare up at his ceiling, talking about nothing and everything. Half of the time we didn't even know what we were talking about and the other half of the time it was about our families...and our dreams. I remember when the topic of choice was about what we were going to do when we grew up. Every time we said the same thing. Nick would insist that he was going to grow up and be famous. He wasn't sure how it was going to happen at the time, he just knew that he wanted to do something **big**. He said that he wanted to be remembered for something. As time went on and his love for music grew, he decided that he was going to become a singer. "Everyone remembers them, Jeff," he said. I held my tongue, sometimes almost letting my thoughts slip, _**I'll **__always remember you, Nick._

Then he would turn to me, eyes wide with excitement and ask me what I wanted to do. The first time I had no idea...later on, the more I thought about what I loved_,_ the most obvious answer became music, but that was Nick's dream and at the time I thought that if I chose the same I'd be taking it from him...so eventually I came to the realization that all I wanted to do was dance.

When I had told him this, he practically screamed. He rolled over to face me, smile planted exactly where I expected it to be and he started going on and on about the future. "_That's amazing, Jeff! You know what we're gonna do? I'm gonna be a famous singer and when I become famous and make music videos and put on concerts you can come with me! You can dance with me up on stage and in my music videos and we'll see the world together! Wouldn't that be awesome?" _

I did think it was awesome. I was happy that he wanted to me to stay with him and that we'd be best friends even when we were that old.

At the time, he seemed to be the only one that wanted me.

Every now and then my mother would come and pick me up from Nick's, telling me that that night I would be staying with them and that the next day I would go to school, but go back with Nick. It become routine, occasionally staying with my mom and dad while the majority of my days were spent with the Duvals.

It wasn't until one night, when one of my parent's fights got out of hand, that things turned for the worst.

It had to have been around 2:30 AM when I had woken up to the sound of screaming. The usual _Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why didn't you call me? How come you're so late? _ turned into _Which one were you with this time? What the fuck do you think you're doing? Then why the hell didn't you text me that you were going to be late? Fucking liar._

Previously I would cry myself to sleep at night through sounds of broken dishes and police sirens outside my door, I would wake up to the new day in silence. I'd take a step outside my room only to find that things had been cleaned up. They talked normally to each other. As if nothing had ever happened...

But this one time, one of the times I had gotten involved, was different. The last time...

Everything was the same, only things had gotten even more out of hand. I can still remember the fell of the pillow against either side of my head as my fingers deathly gripped it's case. My eyes were closed shut, brows together in concentration to drown out the sounds of the screams below with the Beatles lullabies mom use to sing. I was curled up in a ball, sheets in array around me...until I heard the dishes in the kitchen fall from their places on the counter where I knew they had been drying before I had gotten into bed. There was a crack, as though one of the stools had been thrown into the wall...and then there was one final thud.

I had gotten up from bed, making my way down toward the sounds, expecting to see my mom crying and my dad in his usual position of uncaring...instead, I found her on the floor in the corner of the room...her eyes here closed...as though she was sleeping...

I had walked over to her silently, my father's back toward me, and bent down to her. I remember raising my hand in uncertainty. I was so scared to touch her in case there was a chance I could hurt her. When I came in contact with her skin I slowly shook her shoulder for nearly a minute, repeating myself over and over.

_"Mom...momma...momma, wake up."_ But she wouldn't. And I had gotten mad. And I didn't think about it when I ran up to my father, hitting him on the stomach as hard as I could, without doing almost any damage in the slightest.

My father had always been strict. He had his place and I had mine and I had stepped out of it. So, he gave me a punishment that he saw fit.

One moment his hand was in the air somewhere in front of me and the next I was against the wall, my cheek stinging and nose pulsing. I don't remember what he said, I just remember his voice booming in my ears straight to my back where every few moments his boot made contact with my skin. Usually he stopped after only a minute or two...but after a while I realized that he _couldn't_. I realized that he either was too drunk to realize what he was doing or he didn't care anymore...

Minutes...hours later there were military officials all around me and my mom. The on-base medical team surrounded me, eventually concluding that there was no extensive damage except for swelling and bruising. My mom was a different story. They said that she was going to be fine, but that she had to be taken to the medical building where she would be monitored for the night.

There was no where else for me to go except the only place my mom could think of.

One of my father's supervisors, a higher rank than him, took me in his vehicle and drove me to Mr. Duval's house across the camp. I didn't take my case, the majority of my clothes and things were already there, and he dropped me into Mr. Duval's lap, explaining the situation.

I wasn't sure what to do while they were talking, so I stood there with my head slightly hung, arms at my sides. My teeth bit into my lips until I knew if I pressed any harder there would be blood. Then, without even my realization, the general was gone and Nick's dad lead me up to the room I had always sought shelter in.

I realized later that his dad wasn't sure how to handle it, and that's why he thought it was best to just let me sleep tonight and do...whatever had to be done...the next day. He turned off the lights and closed the door behind him as I slipped in next to Nick.

I cried. I cried until I couldn't breath and my lungs were wheezing with need for oxygen. Over months, years, I had been dealing with my mother and father's arguments. More times than one I had gotten involved and things would settle down, but I _knew _this time things were going to change. I knew that this time people knew about what had happened at night and I _knew _things weren't going to be the same as they had been for the last six months with Nick.

I hadn't meant to flinch away from him. His hand had just happened to touch one of the more sensitive spots on my back, where the imprint of my father's boot was left, and so my body had given the immediate reaction to scurry away from the offending sensation. I felt his hand retreat behind me and instead he started talking to me.

"Jeff. Jeff, what happened?"

I didn't want to answer him. I didn't want to turn around and look at him, _knowing _that he would only be looking at me with pity and concern and I didn't want him _seeing_.

For a few minutes he had let me let it out. My thoughts would turn from worrying about my mom to feeling bad about making Nick's pillow wet beneath me. Every now and then I would reach up to clean what I could from under my eyes and nose and whenever I did I could hear Nick hold his breath in hope that I was going to talk to him.

Then he finally broke the silence. "Jeffie, I'm right here. I'm right beside you...You know you can talk to me. Y-You're my best friend...You know that, _right_?"

And I remember my tears stopped, if only for a minute, to bask in everything he had just stated. We had said it so many times to each other before. We had even talked about how we were going to be best friends 20 years in the future and somehow in that moment it felt like it meant more. For years I had never stayed somewhere long enough to have a best friend and when it was said to anyone else it was normally said with little meaning.

Slowly, I had turned toward him, only to see his face full of worry and concern for me, and that made me cry harder.

The next morning, before I was picked up to meet my mother at the medical building, I showed Nick what had happened the night before, facing away from him and lifting up my shirt to reveal what remained on my back.

For the next few weeks I lived in their home. I was a part of their family. More than once I caught myself calling Mr. Duval 'dad' on accident. Nick didn't notice or if he did it didn't seem to phase him. My mom came over every day or so to visit and catch up on what was happening with me. When she wasn't with me, she was working overtime at a local diner. I found out why at the end of those few weeks, when she announced that we would be moving back to the west coast where she grew up.

When she picked me up the night before we were leaving, she reassured me that we would be back in the morning to say goodbye and that we only needed to go back to the house to do a little bit of last minute packing for the early start tomorrow.

That night I had slept in a room with bare walls, all of my things either in boxes or downstairs waiting to be packed into the car. In the middle of the night I woke up, half expecting to hear some sort of screaming downstairs and instead there was complete silence. As soon as I realized this, I had turned around to make sure Nick was still covered with the sheets we shared...only to find my best friend wasn't there and I was no longer living with him.

I was more than sad at this thought and the tears I shed for once were not for my mother, but for the friend I was going to loose tomorrow.

The next morning I woke up both sad and determined.

We quickly packed our stuff in the car, shifting things so that there was just enough room for the both of us in the front. My father said his goodbyes, apologizing over and over and telling me how sorry he was while simultaneously apologizing for _everything_. Everything happened so fast though and the next thing I knew, I was in the car next to my mother and we were on the road.

I half panicked. I remember reaching up to my mom and asking her where we were going. My fingers curled around what little they could wrap around in desperation. She only smiled slightly, nodding ahead of us at the garage of the house I had come to know so well.

I couldn't help the look on my face if I wanted to. I was sad, there was no helping that. But, when I saw the look on Nick's face, one of complete terror and confusion and _denial_...I jumped out of the car and belined straight for him. I don't remember who was the one that started the hug, but I remember trying to hold on to him for as long as possible, hoping that the longer I held on, the more time I'd have to just a few more moments with the only other person in my life that understood me just as much, if not more, than myself.

That morning I had taken out a notebook that was easy to get at and asked mom what our new address was, determined to keep Nick in my life.

When we pulled away from each other and Nick had reached up to wipe at his cheek, my fingers slipped in and out of the pocket in the front of his sweater, leaving behind a threatening note.

He had abided by that note too. When we reached California, three days later, a letter was already waiting for me there.

The first few days there were full of unpacking and getting settled in our new permanent home. It felt weird knowing I wasn't going to be moving again for a while.

I got to know my family there. The only other contact I had with them previously were awkward phone calls. I didn't even know what their faces looked like aside from what came in Christmas cards. There were barbeques and picnics to welcome us "back home". I met cousins and aunts I didn't know I had and with that included awkward hugs and kisses on my cheek I didn't expect.

A few days later I was enrolled at the nearest public school. It wasn't an easy adjustment.

For the past eleven years I had been so use to being on my own, or with one or two people around that I didn't really understand the concept of groups. I didn't understand how people could be such good friends when there were so many people to keep track of.

One of the upside it had been a bigger school. The classes didn't seem any tougher or easier than previous schools and everything I was told I was about to learned had already been covered months before. However, the one thing I was really excited about were the extra curricular activities. Here, only a week or so into the first semester, fliers were handed out in bulk, advertising for students to participate in things like karate, football, and gymnastics. Not many of those caught my attention, but I ended up singing up for basketball because I knew I was good at it and I figured I'd be able to meet a few kids like me.

What caught my attention, were the dance lessons and choir.

In the school I had been going to in Florida, there were no dance lessons available and the choir there was a joke, only taken when students didn't want to sit in study hall for an hour. Nick and I had found that out the hard way, showing up the first week excited to get down to business and instead every time we showed up the more and more the people around us took advantage of the teacher. They did nothing but shout out the lyrics to any random song they could think of to annoy the woman in charge.

Immediately, I sighed up for both ballet and hip-hop, knowing I was one step closer to m-_our_ dream.

Occasionally, when our parents allowed it and we had time between my basketball practice, dance lessons, and Nick's soccer practice, we would get to talk on the phone. Even though we wrote each other as often as we could, and talked on the computer nearly every night, we always found things to talk about. It was just..._easy_ with him. Normal.

My mother started seriously dating one man at the end of my sixth grade year. I tried not to let it get to me and instead focused on everything else. I worked endlessly on my homework when I was home and did nothing but practice my dance steps when I had time.

In seventh grade I got asked out by a girl a year older than me.

At this point I had more friends than I could count. During the summer I had spent much of my time next door with a guy that just happened to be in my grade. Otherwise I was at the pool with the rest of the kids, soaking up the sun and splashing each other with laughter.

While I was getting ready to take a dive into the deep end of the public pool, a girl I knew walked up to me and asked me what I thought about a girl I didn't know. I remember giving her a questioning look and she had pointed at another girl sitting at the side of the pool, talking to the rest of her friends and showing off a deep blush. I had tried to hide my frown, reaching up to rub the back of my neck in embarrassment. Then I gave her my answer and, instead of neatly diving into the water below, I splashed in and swam to the other side where the rest of the guys were playing keep away. One of them immediately approached me and asked what she had wanted. I replied, simply stating exactly what she had said and watched as each of them came up to me, patting me on the back and smiling while calling me a _playa_. I glanced over at my shoulder, seeing the girl in question getting up and walking with the group of her friends away from the pool with comforting arms encased around her.

"I said no. She's not my type." They all stopped and stared at me in confusion, then one of them stepped forward and said something, but before he could make his statement I hit the closest guy's chest and smirked. "I'm more interested in your girl."

Immediately things went back to normal, all of the guys in front of me laughed in an uproar and continued the game they had been playing.

She really _wasn't_ my type.

A year later Nick went out on his first date.

I remember him calling me that morning and telling me about what had happened. He talked about how they hadn't so much as sat together for more than a few minutes. He said that at the end of the date she had thanked him for having a good time when they had barely seen each other to begin with. Curiosity struck me. He kept talking about her reactions to the whole thing and that they didn't make sense, but really the only thing I cared about was what _he _thought about the whole thing. So, I asked him.

I sat there for nearly a minute in silence. My heart was beating against my chest and my palms became sweaty. A few times I had to wiped them against the jeans I was wearing while Nick stared off into space, apparently weighing his thoughts.

"Yeah." He finally said, "I mean, it wasn't bad or anything. She was pretty cool."

I frowned, though I openly tried to bite it back and smile for him. The entire time I tried to think "_Wow, that's awesome. I'm happy for you!" _When the thought that would surface was, "_Oh...Why? I mean...Mmm."_ I was somehow able to muster a nod and the topic was dropped for the night.

Sometime in the next month, my mother came into my room while I was on the computer talking to Nick. We had both received laptops for our birthday, the only thing either of us had asked for. She asked me to end the call with him, and I did, shutting my laptop slowly until it closed and I was forced to turn to her. From the look on her face I knew whatever she was going to say was big news. I knew she was hesitant to tell me...

She was pregnant. Apparently she her new boyfriend were going to have a child together. I was going to have a b-_half_-brother!

I was ecstatic! Thrilled that I wasn't going to be an only child anymore, I hugged my mother and told her how awesome that was and she assured me many things, all which led to the fact that I wouldn't be pushed to the side or left behind just because of the new addition to the family. I nodded my head as she exited through the door and turned toward my computer once more, and reached for the keys to tell Nick...

And I stopped myself. How did I forget about Nick?

I had a brother. I had a best friend who stood by me through _everything_...Who put up with all the good and bad that came with me. Who told me it was fine when I cried like the baby I had been acting when I didn't see my family for more then a day or two when I stayed with him. Who I talked to every single day, no matter what our plans were...

_He_ was my best friend. _He _was my family.

There was no reason I couldn't be happy for the newest addition, but at the same time I couldn't help but think that this whole time I was complaining about how I had been so alone since Florida and the _entire time_ Nick had walked through it with me. From the laughs of awkward family encounters to the tears that were about to come...

My mom got the call from Mr. Duval about Nick's mom the day it happened.

I didn't know what to do.

I remember I was doing homework up in my room, waiting for Nick to get on like we always did... but it kept getting later and later and just before dinner, my mom walked up the stairs to my room, sat down on my bed, and told me Mrs. Duval had passed away that morning.

She didn't know how it happened or any details about what they were going to do, but she said that Nick probably either wanted to talk to me or not at all so I should just wait for _him_ to make the call. I didn't. I called and texted him for a day straight before I realized he didn't want to talk to me_. _Never once had I done so and not gotten a response back immediately or as soon as he could with an apology when I picked up.

I remembered when I was living with them and Nick's mom would hand us our lunches and kiss us on our foreheads even though we hated it and she'd smile at _both_ of us and tell us how much she loved us and we'd run out the door without even thinking about what she really meant...or when she'd greet us when we got back home and she'd spend 20 minutes asking us how our day was and what we had learned that day. She'd get so excited whenever Nick and I would actually talk and tell her the meaningless information they had stuffed into our brains.

She had been so..._loving_. So _welcoming _of me into her home and she treated me exactly like she had Nick. Like I was her _own_ son.

This only lead me to think about how hard it had to be for him.

I was crying when he finally got online and answered me.

He didn't waste any time asking me why I was crying. At the time I didn't know how else to answer except with the blunt truth. He was hurting and it was making _me _hurt.

And then he broke down, completely letting go and crying into his hands in front of me. "_It's not fair! What if she had just gotten up earlier instead of sleeping in like she normally did? How did she get so sick without anyone noticing? Why would they take her away from me?"_

He continued to sob and every now and then I'd say what I could, how it _wasn't _fair and how _beautiful _she had been and that she _shouldn't _haven' left because she was too young and she was still needed. I wasn't sure what else to do in a situation like this. All I wanted was to comfort him in any way I could. I _wanted _to wrap my arms around him and tell him how things weren't going to be ok for a while but that I was there for him and that I wish I could just hold him until he stopped crying.

"I wish I was there." I was looking into the camera this time, knowing that I would be looking directly at him on his end. "I wish I was there right now. That I wasn't stuck here so that I could help you like you helped me in Florida. I wish I could just..." My voice broke, unable to speak what I _really_ wanted.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and whisper promises into his hair that things would eventually get manageable. I wanted to entwine our fingers together and run my fingertips against his palm until he fell asleep against me. I wanted to kiss his tears away that were so freely falling against his cheeks unlike I had ever seen from him before. I wanted to be there with him. I wanted to _be with _him.

He managed a smirk, seemingly understanding what I was trying to say and told me that even though I was thousands of miles away he felt like I was right there with him. I couldn't help but smile slightly, almost bringing up my hand to lay it against the image of him on my computer screen, I refrained though, just as he continued, "You're my best _friend_," he assured me. "You know that, right?" I know he didn't really mean it that way...that he didn't mean to make it sound like...His words just sounded so _different _from the last time he had said that.

I let my eyes wander across my keyboard for a moment, trying to compose myself and told him that I understood completely. Then he told me that he had to go and it was getting late, so we logged off and I shut my computer screen just as the tears started to fall once more.

I liked my best friend.

I liked my best friend who lived two thousand miles away.

I liked my best friend who lived two thousand miles away and was a boy.

I tried to breath through my nose, but when that failed my mouth hung open and my hands reached up to wipe away what evidence that they could.

It had been coming. I should have seen it at the time. The epiphany, I mean. Since that day at the pool I knew I was going to have to figure out what was wrong with me. At the time I had absolutely no desire to see or spend time with the opposite sex. Sure, they were cool to hang out with every now and then, but I wasn't...attracted to them like I was to other people. Like I was to Nick.

Instead of finding ways to impress the girls in my class I had spent most of the time reading comics under the hood of my desk, readying myself to discuss the latest issue of Fantastic Four. Instead of asking girls out during free periods, I spent the time in the gym, working on my latest discovered dance moves to show off via skype. Instead of going off on dates with girls, I sat in my room waiting for a text or phone call back from my best friend.

Instead of checking out girls I was checking out what features I would make out over our crappy camera quality videos.

I was gay and Nick had no idea.

When he told me a few months later that he was going to Dalton, I was heartbroken. That was only further away from me and I _sick_ of not being able to see him face to face. I was sick of always having to wait in my room for any sign of life from him.

So, I talked to my mom. I told her everything. I told her how I hated the school I was going to and that the kids didn't understand me, even if it looked like I fit in perfectly fine. I told her how I hated basketball and that the only reason I had taken it was because I _knew _the other kids would pick on me if I wasn't in something other than dance.

Finally, I told her that I liked boys.

She was shocked and had no idea what to say. I wasn't your stereotypical gay kid. I played video games and like the dirt and read comics like it was my religion and she didn't, at first, understand why I didn't fit the profile of one.

She asked me if I was sure and I nodded at her, telling her yeah. She nodded back at me and ran a hand through my hair like she did when I was younger and dad had been yelling. "I will always love you. No matter who you love...and I'm sure I'll love them too."

I remember a weight being lifted at the realization that I had _finally_ told someone...and fully admitted it to myself.

After that I went to work. I did as much research as I could on Dalton. From floor plans to meal options, I spent the majority of my time after school looking for everything positive about it. I looked for anything I could share with my mom to make her understand just _how much _I wanted to leave California and go to Ohio. Which didn't make sense in the slightest to anyone else. California was comforting. People were more open than most and more accepting than the majority. However, a _person_ was still open to their own opinion and the children in my particular school in northern California, didn't seem as accepting.

I rejoiced in Dalton's policy. _Zero tolerance. _That's what I was looking for. I showed my mom, pointing out the most obvious statement that I would be _safe_ there. She, however, looked at me in concern and asked why I didn't just want to find another school in the area with the same policy.

I remember my heart plummeting, face falling, thinking that she wasn't going to let me go because it was so far away. But then, she placed her hand on my knee and made me look at her.

"It's because of Nick, isn't it?"

I didn't react other than the widening of my eyes, but I knew she understood.

"I talked to Nick's father a while ago. He said he was going to put him there so he could settle down..." My mother stared at me for a long while and at the time I couldn't figure out what was passing behind her eyes as she examined me.

I refused to look away, telling myself that I was going to win this. "He's my best friend, mom," I stated simply.

She took me in her arms, told me how much she loved me, and kissed the top of my head before telling me that she would call the school to make arrangements.

That was it. I was going to Dalton...and Nick.

I kept it a secret, only passing on information to Nick about the school, but never revealing that I, too, was going to be there in less than a couple months. Then the time came. I packed my things one final time and headed for the car and the airport.

The flight there was easy, I slept the majority of the way with my head on my mom's shoulder. I woke only when she prodded me and pointed toward the skyline outside as we were about to land. Then we made our way straight to the campus.

It was bigger than I thought it was going to be. It almost seemed like college, or what I thought college was like. There was a garden that the students took turns managing, a dance hall for private lessons after regular class, and an all-you-can-eat-buffet that I knew Nick was going to flip over. The principal showed me briefly where I was going to be staying, room 209 in the west wing, near the glee club room...with Nick.

My mother and Nick's father had made arrangements together. They knew it was a good idea for us to move here and live separately so that we could make new friends and socialize amongst our peers...but they also knew that as soon as both of us were aware we were at the same school, we would find a way to live together anyway. Like we use to.

That night my mother and I stayed in a hotel nearby and I didn't fall asleep until nearly and hour before I was suppose to wake up, excitement coursing through my veins and a smile plastered on my face. I woke up with just enough time to get ready and pack what few clothes I had brought in my carry on.

When we arrived back at Dalton, my things were already there in the moving truck, completely paid for by my mom's boyfriend, who, as it turned out from my lack of attention span, was wealthy from a electronic company that he owned. Later on I found out he was the reason I was able to come here in the first place, paying for all of my expenses for the full four years I attended Dalton.

The principal greeted us. He told me that my roommate was already upstairs unpacking.

I didn't take the time to set down what I was holding, and ran for the room as fast as I could. My feet nearly slipped out from under me three times, but I was able to catch myself just as I reached our open door.

_Our _door_. _Our _room_.

I composed myself. My heart was beating against my chest and I nearly dropped the box in my hands from the sweat I was creating. I was lightheaded and winded, from running or the thrill of it all, I wasn't sure.

I knocked on the door and stepped inside.

His back was to me and he seemed to be fiddling with something on the floor in front of him. "Hey, hold on. I'm a little..."

His voice sounded different. It felt so _real_ to be able to hear him face to face, in the same room.

He stood, turning toward me with a smile and his hand held out until he realized who I was and the smile fell into shock and confusion.

I laughed and apologized, joking with him. "Hey, man. Sorry to cramp your style." I bent down to set the box I was holding on the floor. I feared that if I didn't I would drop it from how hard I was shaking.

"Guess I'm gonna be your new roommate." I sighed a shaky breath.

He was on the other side of the room one second and the next he was right in front of me. A day ago he was thousands of miles away. Now he was hugging me harder than I remembered him hugging me goodbye four years ago.

I didn't know what else to say or do, so I lifted my arms as best I could and tried to hug him back, my head falling to rest of the top of his.

I heard him breath against the collar of my shirt.

_"Jeffie."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hopefully I will update by Saturday night or Sunday morning! I've already written half the chapter, now it's just a matter of getting enough time to finish it. _**AND IT PICKS UP AT THIS MEETING. IN NICK POV**_. I will not write the other chapters with _each_ of their views on it, I just needed to understand what happened with Jeff and this was it...I was reading through the second chapter and some of it wasn't making sense because you didn't _know_ everything about Jeff yet.

You know, I think I make these guys seem more mature than what most people think kids these age act. But, think about what they're going through. What they have to deal with. I also remember from my own experience knowing _everything _that was going on around me in perfect detail. I also remember the anger I would feel whenever my parents would act like I didn't. (I went through kinda the same thing as Jeff, so I can relate in understanding...)

**ALSO: **There were a shit ton of favorites and alerts for this, I hope I'm not letting you guys down. I really quite enjoy this chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It _really_ means a lot, to any author, when you get feedback, constructive criticism or praise.


	3. Forgetting and Remembering

**Author:** CrazedHumor

**Title: **Getting Attached

**Rated: **M (swearing and more to come)

**Summary: (AU sorta)** I've moved around my entire life and in doing so, I learned to not get attached to anyone or anything. There was only one exception. Niff.

**A/N:** YEAH! CHAPTER TWO! Holy shit, it's been how many months? :| Enjoy, my lovelies. Thank you, Hollybollywolly, for getting on my ass and giving me motivation (kinda... for a while...love you) and also Bekka who wouldn't stop mentioning it.:P

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Forgetting and Remembering<strong>

_(Nick's POV)_

I can't really tell you what I was feeling in that moment. It's kind of hard to pinpoint it what with everything that was going through my head. I don't remember any of it making sense, my thoughts, I mean. Everything was kind of jumbled because I couldn't string one word to another. I just remember not being able to let go. My fingers were clutching at his shirt as though I was back in my old driveway in Florida. It felt like I was that small child again, clinging to the memory of the feeling of my fingers twisted in my best friend's hug. It hurt once again, but for a whole other reason. The pain that had once been left behind, every time I remembered letting go, every time I shut my computer screen, every time I hung up the phone, was now surrounded and overcome with an overwhelming amount of excitement and relief. My heart was beating its way out of my chest and I couldn't help but grin until my cheeks became sore at the insanity if it all.

My phone had gone off, I could feel it vibrating in my pocket, but at the time I didn't think much about it. I was too far in a daze. I had just been dropped off at Dalton, not a few hours before, ready start everything over and here was Jeff...a lot taller than I remembered him and so far deep in my past and stuck life that I was choking as I tried to breathe through his shoulder, unable to let go.

I had forgotten where I was until Jeff started laughing in my ear. "N-nicky." He wiggled out of my arms and rubbed a spot on his thigh.

I pulled back and stared at him for a moment before I realized that he had felt my phone too. I pulled it out and flipped it open quick only to see the words "_Have a good year_," from my father. I had met eyes with him and smirked a little. "All of you were in on this...weren't you?"

He didn't say anything, instead a hand came up behind his head and he kind of scratched at the patch of skin between his hairline and shirt with a laugh. He wasn't looking at me, but I could tell he was embarrassed. His cheeks were tinted and it seemed like he couldn't stop grinning. Something we had in common at the moment.

For a while I just stood there looking at him. He was different from what I had gotten from photos and videos and Internet chats. He was a lot taller than me and though his arms were smaller, you could tell what _was _there was pure muscle, which was weird seeing as how every time I saw him he had been snacking on everything from Red Vines to mint chocolates, smiling and laughing around the objects in his mouth. I couldn't help but think that it had to be because of dance that he had gotten so strong. It was one of his passions, I knew. I could almost see it as my vision faded from one image to the other, one of the young apprehensive Jeff I had met those many years ago to the now outgoing and positive guy I had become so attached to. Both were still Jeff.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally started laughing and threw my phone onto one of the desks. "This one's mine... roomie." I grinned in his direction and ran a hand through my hair.

We were freshmen in high school. We had barely established our lives, not yet grown into ourselves and somehow in a matter of moments... we _found_ it. It was easy. We continued to talk all through unpacking, as though we hadn't spent five years talking over the Internet, thousands of miles apart. I found myself, however, glancing at him every now and then. I didn't pay much attention to it. I had spent four years of my life away from my best friend and my mind was still trying to wrap around the aspect of any form of Jeff physically with me. It was both surreal and... comforting. For years I remembered wondering if I'd ever be in the same room as him, ever be able to hit his shoulder with my fist, or give him a pat on the back for praise... or hug him as tightly as I remembered I had just before he had pulled out of my driveway all that time ago.

It turned out that Jeff had found a way to convinced his mother to allow him to come to Dalton too. He didn't specify the exact reason, but just that he told her the truth and he wanted to see me again. I always liked his mother. She was a kind woman and the time that I _had _spent with her she had been nothing but nice, though that still left me a little perplexed. I didn't understand how a mother could send her only son off thousands of miles away simply because he wanted to.

I figured I'd have to ask her some time.

We didn't sleep that night. Instead, we unpacked about half of our boxes, eventually forgetting them to sit on our beds and talk about everything we'd already talked about over the years. It seemed different. Everything we'd said had already been uttered over our computers and phone, but it was _new_. Saying it face to face was nothing like it had been thousands of miles apart. We continued to talk about the most random things, eventually falling asleep early that next morning, though I wouldn't be able to tell you who fell asleep first.

I remember waking up in a slight panic. It may have sounded exaggerated or completely made up, but I had thought I had dreamed all of it. I had spent so many times dreaming of the exact thing, spending physical time with my best friend only to wake up in my home across the country that I wouldn't have been surprised that I had done the same thing, coming up with the story to appease the distance I had put farther between us in the real world.

Everything had slipped back into something it use to be, though it had never actually occurred. Jeff had lived with me for _four _months. It was a stitch in time, something that had affected me like nothing else and somehow we had gone right back to picking it up where we left off, though we were older. _Somewhat_ wiser. So many events had happened and yet we had gone through them together. I wasn't sure how, but the adjustments, the talking to understand boundaries, everything that normally took place when moving in with someone, roommate or otherwise, didn't take place with us. We just... slipped into something that seemed to happened naturally.

As other kids arrived, I didn't realize it at the time, but we stayed close to each other. Every motion I made, Jeff had a reaction to and vice versa. It was like we were mirroring each other, every action for a reaction, scared that if we moved inches away, we'd disappear again and I'd turn around to find him a pigment of my imagination. As lunch had approached, he had both gotten up without word and exited our room, making our way to the canteen to retrieve food. There were other guys that found us, sitting down to join in on our conversation. It didn't bother me when I noticed that they were _watching_ us. Eventually they asked. They knew we knew each other long before he attended Dalton and for a while we told them the full story, though not in full detail.

It was funny watching their reactions and for some of them, they couldn't understand how we had stayed in touch so easily. Jeff and I just shrugged it off, not exactly knowing what to say other than we just _did_.

It was easy to find our place in school. Most of the time Jeff and I spent our classes casting looks and sharing jokes with each other as the teacher's backs were turned. We slipped into a routine where we'd go to class, socialize with other friends, and then come back to our room, finishing our homework late at night after a long day of owning each other over the newest Medal of Honor game. A lot of the time I found myself comforted by Jeff. There was this nagging sensation in the back of my mind that reminded me that my suitcase was just under my bed and my logic would forget that I wasn't _going_ anywhere. I was going to be in the same bed the next morning and the morning after and it just didn't _compute_ for the longest time. Growing up on the road was life for me and adjusting to staying in one place, being able to get_ attached _to people, other than Jeff, had been so unfathomable. Jeff did his best to get me to open up even if he wasn't the best at it either. It wasn't so much that we weren't social. We were. We talked and joked and hung out with a lot of the guys that surrounded us in class and back in the dorms, but there was a boundary that I didn't overstep for a long time that separated acquaintances from friends.

The first time Jeff asked to sleep in the same bed as me, I was hesitant.

We were freshman in high school and thought it wasn't what you'd call "normal" high school, there was still a manner to keep. I knew that others didn't do it, not unless there was something behind the action, but I couldn't help but have this voice at the back of my mind telling me this wasn't just some guy. This was Jeff. My best friend that I _finally_ had back in my life and... I knew why he asked. It was only a few days into living at Dalton. The overwhelming feelings still fresh in our minds, we had still been seeking each other's attention constantly, as a reassurance that the other was still there. And a part of me wanted to just take a moment to relive how things use to be before he moved away. Two small children lying in bed and in silence, waiting for morning to come with no little worries. Even if we were far from it.

I nodded my head in the darkness in our room, hoping that he saw the gesture and he did. He shook the covers off him and crawled into mine and I shifted over to make room. I stayed on my side, eyes tracing his features in the dark and he the same. It wasn't until much later when I realized how intimate the position was. At the time all I could think about was the fact that I wasn't falling asleep to the face on a computer screen. That if I were to reach my fingers out to to touch his cheek, I'd come into contact with skin, not plastic.

It became our nightly routine, almost to the point where his bed would go unused for days on end. A few times we had been walked in on, Jeff's body laying close to mine and we were teased about it, some asking whether we were "together" or not. I'd laugh it off and shake my head, making a joke of it.

It was easier to make fun of it and have them laugh than it was to try and explain my need to keep him close.

Because, honestly, I didn't _fully _understand that myself.

We tried out for the Warblers right away, almost ganging up on the uptight council with our laid back mannerisms. We knew there was a policy. We had watched a few performances previously. Their foot work was relaxed and uncomplicated. They worked in unison, but Jeff and I were such an _opposite _of that. Growing up with the restrictions we had, we had become everything that the Warblers weren't, it seemed. When we auditioned, against policy, we did a duet. We created a choreography that showed off Jeff's talent and kept to an upbeat song that we both enjoyed singing. We ended the song with wide smiles on our faces, a high five between us in congratulations and were greeted with blank stares from the members in charge.

"We'll just, ah, wait outside."

I laughed at Jeff's expression, somehow pleased with himself and the impression we made with everyone. We really didn't think we were going to make it and as much as that brought us down, our love for singing and dancing aside, we were in the thrill of the moment. It turned out we worked well together. Not only on stage, but just in general. There was something about us, that everyone seemed to notice. You couldn't have a _Nick _without _Jeff_.

When we were accepted into the Warblers, we were immediately taken under some of the upperclassmen's wings. Two who weren't as uptight or strict as the others. They were the ones that pulled us in, a Fred and George for the group it seemed, and we were welcomed openly. It seemed like they enjoyed our enthusiasm and determination to work _together_ that got us in.

As time went on, we got more and more attached to the group of guys. It became more apparent that they weren't only a group of friends, but brothers. Though there were differences in the group, as was expected, there was a foundation that wasn't messed with. _Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler._ As long as you kept your loyalty and best interest for the group to heart, you were always loved and welcomed and looked out for in return. There were a few times right away when we banned together. Though we had already spent a few months together, we still hardly knew what to do when one of our council member's father died.

When I heard the news, I instantly stiffened. We were in the middle of one of our meetings when the missing leader showed up, face fallen and swollen with tears as he did his best to keep himself together to announce it to the rest of us. A chill ran up my spine as I listened to him and my jaw clenched. I hadn't told the other Warblers about my own mom and what had happened. I wasn't sure how to bring it up in conversation and I thought maybe it'd just _happen_, but as I listened to Dylan's broken voice, I remembered how terrible mine must have sounded when I finally did talk to Jeff over skype that afternoon...

I didn't need to look over to know that it was Jeff that had taken my hand in his own.

I squeezed back to let him know I knew he was there.

We were invited to the funeral and as brothers we attended and sang at the request of Dylan. I think it was more for the purpose of keeping him busy rather than comfort at that point though. Just before we left as a group Jeff and I had been sitting in our room on my bed. My feet were on the floor and my face blank as I stared ahead of me. I felt the bed dip and his thigh brushed mine when my lip quivered. The loss was still fresh in my own memory. I can still remember the image of her being taken in the body bag from my window. I didn't see her face until the funeral. I had sat silent until everyone disappeared and it was only my father and I were left with her. My muscles had frozen, people's words muffled and incoherent to me through the entire service. Only when I stood to leave did I feel anything as I reached my hand in to touch her pale face one last time, cold to the touch and colorless compared to her rosy cheeks I had loved so much. I was snapped out of my thoughts when Jeff's arm wound around my shaking shoulders and as I heard his voice, I felt the tears slip once more, just as painful as they had been the first time.

"I've got you, Nicky. I'm here now."

_Because you're hurting._

And then I just cried harder.

I should have felt some kind of shame for being this age and crying in front of my best friend, but I had done it before and at that point I was past caring. I'd seen too many things and had shared too many moments with him to care if he saw me act like a child, if that was how some put it. He was Jeff and it didn't matter what I did, I knew it wasn't going to change the way he saw me.

When I was able to compose myself enough to stand, Jeff gave me a worried look, hand on my shoulder, but I just nodded and smiled slightly, thankful that he was at least physically with me to bring me together long enough to be there for someone whose wound was fresh. We sang a soft melody that didn't have any words, but you got the feeling of loss and love in the way the melody switched and the tone darkened. By the end of it I felt the tears appear again, but they were faint enough to pass it off as the mutual feeling among the older guys who were closer to Dylan.

I fell asleep that night for the first time with Jeff's arms wrapped around me.

The first time we separated was the first Christmas we had while at Dalton.

We had bypassed the fall break, staying behind to spend the week in our dorm, snacking on what food the cafeteria provided and sneaking treats back to our room for movie marathons. A few times we were caught running through the halls as we sang loud and obnoxiously, writing things on everyone's boards outside their rooms. I didn't have anywhere to go that week. With my father on base in North Carolina there was no point flying all the way out there to spend all my time in my room reading comic books. When Jeff found out I was staying behind, he insisted he do the same. But he couldn't stay behind with me for the month long break that was meant to be spent with his family. Jeff insisted that I go home with him, that I could spend time with _him_ instead of sitting in the dorm all alone. I reassured him. It wasn't for long and my father promised he'd make it out for Christmas eve.

He hadn't, however, and I was met with disappointment that morning when a package arrived that was suppose to be my present. I didn't open it. Instead I put it away and laid on my bed, surprise almost nonexistent in comparison to the shock that I would have felt if he _had_ showed up. I knew that he loved me, but at the same time I knew that work came first.

I put on a happy face when Jeff and the rest of the guys returned to the dorms, not so much covering up what disappointment I had over break, but genuine _enjoyment_ that they were back. It was a weird feeling, being left when I had been the one to leave for so long and to see them return was a relief. I almost jumped when Jeff surprised me with a box in the face. I had been sitting at my desk when all of the sudden there was a square package that had been slapped on top of my hands, thankfully light.

A grin had spread across my face and a chuckle escaped me as I gave him a light punch to the stomach, comforted by the feeling of his shirt against my hand, that he was tangible when for a month I had gone to sleep alone every night half cold and alone. And now he was back, present in hand... I ripped the paper open and undid the tape that was keeping whatever it was locked inside and... my face slowly fell.

There, sitting at the bottom of the box was a pair of brightly colored sunglasses. They were plastic, old and worn, and the sides were red but the lenses were a deep black. And they were small. They'd never have fit my head _then_, but five years ago, I wouldn't doubt it. Lifting them to my eye level, I turned them in my fingers and saw the sloppy scribbled little 3 just next to the rim of them in dark permanent marker. It was blotchy, the marker worn away from being moved over the years, but there was no mistaking it.

I wasn't sure what to say. There was something about the way he was looking at me, like he was remembering them just as I was, the moments when we'd become different people all those years ago. When we'd become secret agents, our alter egos, and we'd go on missions. It was a way for us to escape what was happening in our homes. The nights when our parents would bicker, their words callous and sharp to our sensitive ears. We'd sneak outside, glasses on the bridge of our noses and play in a different world that we concocted. I was Agent 3. I had special abilities, chosen due to my amazing knowledge in stealth, martial arts, and awesomeness. Jeff was Agent 6, named rightly so because he was "twice as better as me." To that day I was sure I could still find pictures of us drowning in my dad's suits, ties messily hanging around our necks and sleeves hiding our hands.

I shook my head. I could hardly believe that he had kept them. They were measly toys from so long ago and yet they'd survive his move and all this time...

"It's not... much." A hand lifted to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "But I found them in the basement a while ago and I thought it'd be... nice."

I chuckled and lifted the pair to my face. The arms bent out to fit me and I felt the pressure against the side of my face, but I laughed nonetheless and glanced up. "No, dude. They're _amazing_." Taking them off, I inspected them once more. "I can't believe you kept them..." Letting out a breathy laugh, I lifted my hand to touch his arm and reassure him that I liked the present. It was better than anything he could possibly buy. I didn't need a 50 dollar packaged present. What I _needed_, even if I didn't know it, was this reminder.

For the upcoming months, I'd sit in our room when Jeff wasn't looking and I'd spin the glasses in my hand. I'd remember how we'd get lost in each other, not only in the past, but the present. I'd think about _why _I had laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes straight at something the blonde had done over our computers as he reenacted the stunt even though it really _wasn't_ that funny. I'd remember the thrill I'd get every time I was called downstairs because the phone call was for me. I'd remember how... incredibly unrealistic it was that Jeff and I had been able to keep so close for so long when we'd only spent _months_ together as _children_.

And yet, somehow, we _did _it.

Meeting Jeff's eyes, I smiled. It was a reflex. Though it really wasn't instinct that made me smile so instantly. It was the unconscious knowledge that I was going to be looking at Jeff and for whatever reason when I did, I knew that he almost never failed to make me do otherwise. I realized later that most of the time he wasn't even trying. He'd just be sitting there acting like himself and there was_ something_ in me that couldn't hold back this happiness that he created. Just for me, it felt like. This world that he created and only I existed.

But that was the part that made sense. I use to watch him. For a long time I'd keep my sight ahead of me, but I'd be watching his movments out of the corner of my eyes and I'd see the way he just had this effect on people. He brightened the room with whatever the hell it was that he did. And when I thought about it, even when we were little it was the same way. Even when Jeff was going trough hell, when his father's scream could be heard outside his door, when he was completely broken down and covered in tears, he found a way to bring himself together for _me_. To make _me_ feel better instead of worrying about himself.

The part that_ didn't_ make sense was the inhale of breath I took when Jeff placed his fingers over my hand. There was this sudden sting in my chest... but it was a good sting. It was _warm_. It was something I hadn't felt before, or, at the time that was what I believed. This time, it was just too powerful to be ignored. His fingers slowly traced mine, our skin grazing for only _seconds_ and I had every urge to turn my hand around and thread them together as my head spun and my throat closed on me. Suddenly, everything I had thought I wanted before, with other girls that I had given second looks and ones that had tried to catch my attention, I felt race through me for _him_. My best friend. It was so overwhelming that I didn't have time to catch all of it and instead of welcoming it I instantly took my hand back, clenching my fingers and digging them into my palm as though I had just been burnt.

His face fell and the look that he gave me tore my insides into _pieces_.

I didn't say anything as he nodded once and turned away from me.

I didn't know _what_ to say.

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><p><em>(Jeff's POV)<em>

I had never kept a secret from Nick before. Nothing other than Dalton. I _couldn't_. It was a hard thing to think about: That there was a part of me that he _didn't _know about, as weird as it may have sounded. Part of this I knew was because _I_ thought I knew _him _inside and out. I didn't have any reason to think that he'd keep something from me. He was Nick and I'd seen him at the worse and best times. I couldn't think of him in any other way except that he was special to me.

But there was one topic we never _really_ talked about and that was the one thing that I _had_ kept from him.

The day that I had came out to my mom, after the relief I felt for someone knowing, I promised myself that I would tell Nick next. He had the right to know. He was my best friend and I _trusted_ him over everyone else. But... every time I thought about telling him that I liked guys, my throat would close up and my stomach would drop. I didn't think he would reject me or hate me. There were plenty of other guys that came to Dalton because they needed to take advantage of the no-tolerance policy and we were friends with them too.

I was scared that if I told him, he'd catch on to another part of me that I was hiding that I _knew_ had the ability to ruin our friendship, because having more than just "buddy" feelings for your best friend could not only make things awkward with them knowing about it, but it could tear them apart. I'd _seen _it.

At first it was easy to work around. I made sure to keep my back turned when we were changing and kept my hands to myself when I could, even though I spent most nights in his bed. I just wanted to stay as close to him as I could, sometimes reaching out to touch him just to make sure he was still there.

When it came time for the first summer after Dalton, I had done my best to bite my lip and ignore what Nick was saying. He kept telling me how things would be fine with him spending the few months with his dad. I didn't have anything against him. He was a good guy, but I grew up with the military too and knew just as well as Nick that _that_ always came first. Always. I tired to get Nick to agree to come spend the summer with me. For weeks I talked to him about him bunking with me, whether that was in the same room or in the guest bedroom, I didn't care. I just didn't want to spend the summer like we'd spent every other year: apart. My mom even tried too, encouraging him that it wouldn't be a problem, but he simply refused. I wasn't sure why at the time. I didn't have any reason to believe that we were anything other than best friends. I didn't think he knew my secret, so things couldn't have been weird between us from what I could tell, and we still spoke every day, whether that was over phone, text, or otherwise.

It was weird being back home now. While I was away, my mom had had the baby. They named her Ellie and mom wouldn't stop talking about how similar we looked (because we had inherited her genes). It was surreal for the longest time, holding the kid and thinking that it had been inside my mom's stomach not too long ago. It was weird thinking I had a _sister _in the first place. I'd spent years with Nick, who, was amazing, but to physically have someone that was related to me, littler than me in size and would grow up in the same house, was pretty crazy to wrap my head around. I was thankful, however, that she came once things settled down.

It was going to be hard to explain my dad to her.

Every summer I spent a week with my dad, even though I could have spent a month, like he asked every year. It was easier to take the short amount of time and get out of there before things got... worse. Once he agreed to therapy sessions and other things for his anger problem, he was allowed to see me. And... until I was 18, I didn't have a choice, but to go. Most of the time there I spent in my room, trying to act invisible. Even though there was a part of me that hated him, there was also a part that tried to believe that there was still good under his drunken demeanor. For the first few days, every time I was there, he'd let me get adjusted to the change. Maybe it was because he felt it was just as awkward as it was for me. We didn't talk outside these seven days. Seven days out of three hundred and sixty five. So, who was I to be obligated to this guy that I was only genetically attached to?

I grinned and bared it, staying silent for most of the time that I was forced outside the room I was given and when it was time to say goodbye he always did the same thing. Even though I had grown, taller than every other boy in my year and almost to my dad's shoulders, he placed his hand on my head with this look that I didn't understand for the longest time and would say, "Good seeing you, Squirt. We'll try again next time." And then he'd turn without another word as people crowded around me, waiting to board the same plane back to the sunny state of California.

And that wasn't even the part I was confused about telling her about. I was confused on how I was going to tell her ten years from now, why we didn't have the same father and why mine had beaten our mother and me until we were forced to move across the country.

I tried not to think about it now when half the summer was still ahead of me and Ellie was small enough that she couldn't yet crawl. There was time to sort it all out, what I was going to say and how I was going to say it.

But the next years that came made everything so much more different than I could have possibly imagined.

That summer I kept in contact with Nick every day, just like old times when I'd wake up to his call, only now it was his words that I read in the morning when I first woke up, at times sending him a text before he could. Though I preferred to see him in real life, just a finger tip's touch away, I was grateful for the thought that, no matter _where_ either of us were, we'd still be together.

As I sat on the edge of my bed in my room on the west coast, my stomach rolled at the thought. _Together._ That was a word, so simple when used in every day life, but could make a single sentence complex and elegant with the stress of one's voice.

I couldn't help it. As much as I just wanted to forget it, there were days when feelings overwhelmed me and shrouded every inch of sanity that I had left. There were days, mornings, afternoons, nights, when I just _couldn't _stop my hand from inching down my body to grasp my hardening cock with Nick's face in my mind. Every time my hand slipped over the slippery skin, I'd imagine we were back in the dorm and I was in bed with him again, his own fingers reaching out to wrap around my dick and causing an unbearable heat that would build until it irrupted and caused my back to arch in the sheets. I'd pretend Nick was whispering in my ear, his lips ghosting over my own, my neck, my chest, everything he could touch and I'd _imagine_ this look in his eyes that I knew I gave him whenever his back was turned and I knew I was in the clearing.

That he _wanted_ me.

But it wasn't just the physical want, though that was there too. Every day in the back of my mind when he was within arm's reach, I had this urge to reach out and touch his skin simply because I could. There more so times in the middle of the night when Nick was sleeping and his hair would fall into his face as he unconsciously turned to face me, when I'd see myself lift my hand to brush the curls away... There were a few times when I caved. When I knew he was in a deep enough sleep that I could make such a gesture without him noticing, I'd let my thumb graze the underside of his bottom lip or eyes count the almost nonexistent freckles on his face by the small amount of moonlight that filtered through the windows.

Sometimes I found myself alone in our room after he had just stepped out and I'd sigh in relief as I stripped from my clothing and enter our private shower where I'd lean against the wall and let the water drip down my body, hand winding around my cock, fingers flicking the tip as I imagined Nick on his knees, tongue working against me. I used the sound of the running water to moan his name as I came against the cold tile. For seconds afterward I'd _see _him, kneeling before me, with this satisfied smile on his face as he licked his lips... And then the vision would fade into nothing and I'd realize that I'd just thought about my best friend as I jacked off in our dorm.

But it was more than that.

It was more than touching and feeling his skin against mine.

It was that... every time I saw him frowning, hurt, sometimes when things were at the worse or old memories would flare up, I'd feel this unbelievable _hole_ in my chest because I _hated_ that there was a part of Nick that could be torn and scratched at until tears leaked to the surface of his eyes. I _loathed_ that something, anything, could exist that could hurt Nick in any form. I just wanted him to be happy. I wanted to see him smile and I wanted to know that he was getting everything he deserved. I did the best I could to keep a smile on his face and most of the time it was easy. I couldn't conceive a reason that any of my terrible jokes would be funny, but they made Nick laugh anyway, so I told them. I made sure that there was always something in my back pocket that could keep us busy when his thoughts wandered to the unpleasant. I did _everything_ I could to bring his thoughts to me and away from the bad.

And it wasn't always the present I found myself thinking about. It was silly to think that in my sophomore year of high school I'd be thinking about college or my house or my career. And to me, it was. But still, my thoughts lingered on who I was going to be and where I would end up and even though everything was a blur, my face painted just beyond sight, I could _see_ who was standing next to me because anyone else was inconceivable.

I had lost Nick once in my life and I refused to let him go again, no matter the cost. And if that meant we would remain friends for the rest of our lives, then I was going to have to deal with that.

But saying I would have to deal with it and actually _dealing_ with it was much harder than I thought.

It was the winter of our third year when I realized just how wrong I was.

Our second year had gone smoothly. Just as well as the first. The Warblers stuck together and though we didn't get as far as we would have liked in competition, it just made us that more determined to win the next year and the year after that... We became closer, relying on each other not only during practices, but out of them. We studied together and watched movies on our days off. Nick and I usually dragged everyone out to walk to a nearby paintball field at least once every few weeks to just get the guys to breathe a little.

Over the nine months that school was in, I noticed something though. Things had changed, or were in the process of changing, though I had no idea what I was up against. There were little things I did that Nick seemed to start noticing too. Things that I eventually had to hold back from doing all together, too scared that I might give him the wrong impression. Or, I guess, a very right one.

Many times when I found us close, sometimes when we were playing video games or it was that time at night when we'd crawl into his bed, I'd find my mind going blank. Whatever it was that I was doing would fade from my thoughts and my muscles would move according to memory as I focused on the smallest touch of our legs or the way his eyes would flicker to mine just before he told me goodnight and closed them until I heard his breathing come in and out in long calming breaths.

And when we weren't doing that, there were the Crawford Girls.

There were plenty of high schools nearby and I knew that if we just somehow _joined_ a group from one of them, we'd have a larger group of friends and "prospects" than we had already. But Dalton and Crawford had a deal. They were our sister school and when events were put on, they were automatically invited, though they didn't always attend. There was one thing once a year that was specifically put on for them: A dance. It was simple, a place where boys and girls could get together and dance and get to know one another.

And not just that, but it was a place for the guys as well. It was well known that many of the guys that had sought refuge here were dating one another. There wasn't a single person that was left out, hated, or forgotten because of this, though it wasn't highlighted either. It was as though Dalton was this small universe where labels didn't exist. There were no standards and no one was treated specially by the faculty.

We just existed.

I hadn't come out, even though I knew that no one would actually care that I was gay. I easily slid around the questions though, when people around me talked about both girls and guys alike, paying special attention to Nick's responses. I laughed it off and nodded, agreeing to the different types of people that they were attracted to, thoughts set on the one person I had my sights set on, only inches from me. I was still afraid that one of the wrinkles in Nick's face would disappear from his smile if he put two and two together and finally realized that, even now, six years after I had met Nick in that Florida classroom and two and half years after I had hugged him in their dorm for the first time, I was still in love with him.

The day I had realized I was in love with him was just another day. Simple and same as ever. I had woken up early, showered, and came back into the room to find Nick sprawled out across our bed with his mouth half hung open and saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. I had leaned down, hand reaching out to touch his shoulder and wake the dork up from whatever kind of dream he was having, when it hit me like freight truck.

I had realized that this was how I wanted to wake up every single morning. I wanted to roll over half asleep out of bed and get ready and come _back_ to bed to find the brunet in a slumber, looking as ridiculous as we both normally did. I wanted this to be normal. I wanted to lean down and brush my lips across his ear and chuckle his name until he woke up and I wanted my face to be the first thing he saw, smile crossing his features in realization that _I _was there with him.

My heart had been pumping twice as hard as he woke up, eyes blinking as he met my own wide ones and a smile crossed his face, just as I had seen it moments ago in my head.

"'Mornin' Jeffster. Time already?"

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice the small glance over his shoulder that Nick gave me as he entered the bathroom. I was too far gone to take in the sound of a groan over the sound of water against porcelain. I was _so _far gone from the present, _real _world, that I didn't hear the muffled sigh of a word coming from the direction of the shower that my best friend preoccupied.

It wasn't too long after that, that the dance was held.

Everyone attended. It was an annual event that had been going on since the schools had been formed, though now a days, it was way for guys to find a girlfriend or quick hook up. We were seventeen and even though we'd gone through the last few years without actually going on dates, I knew it was going to happen eventually. We had been so use to getting to know each other again in the prospect of distance, that I had forgotten that there was a possibility that Nick might actually find someone one day.

That night I had been the one to tie the tie around his neck and straighten it down his chest, nodding in approval, ready for whatever was to come with an encouraging smile. But at the time I didn't know that I'd end up in a crowded room feeling completely alone.

One of our friends, David, knew that I was in love with Nick. He had, so he said, caught me countless times watching Nick when I thought no one was looking, much longer than a normal friend would. And there were a few times that I had almost told Blaine, but there was so much going on in his life with Kurt, a transfer student from a local public high school at the time, that I couldn't think to bother him, though I did whatever I could to help _their _flourishing relationship, ironically with Nick. I figured at the time, if I couldn't have the person I was in love with, I should at least help others be with theirs, right?

But, David was off with Wes somewhere, though I didn't want to linger on the thought. I loved my friends, but what happened behind closed doors was their business (not that that had stopped Nick and I from whistling outside their room more than a few times.) Blaine hadn't even been present. He had been pulled away to watch a football game at McKinley High with Kurt, though I didn't blame the guy.

I'd follow Nick anywhere.

No, instead, I found myself watching Nick, though I stood right next to him, both of us surrounded by girls. I was confident about myself. I knew I had good looks and for some reason people found my humor amusing, but I couldn't bring myself to truly care about what they thought about me, just as a person or romantically wise. My eyes, though set on the many attractive faces that surround me, were focused on the brunet at my side as he winked in one of their directions. Slowly the girls were pulled away by others until it was just Nick and I left with one other girl who's hand kept reaching out to touch his arm. My eyes followed it. Every time her fingers touched his arm, his shoulder, or his side and his face would light up in a smile, I found mine falling until I realized that I wasn't holding my expression back anymore and my depression was as clear as day. One of the guys came over and placed a hand on my shoulder, stealing me away from the chaos I had been watching, voice low as he spoke to me, the thought of how he knew not even registering in my thoughts.

"Come on. It's not gonna help if you watch it happen."

"It." I knew what that meant. That small word, so important to the English language was the definition of everything I had been waiting for.

I was waiting for Nick's hand to reach out so his fingers could tangle in mine. I was waiting to see the expression on his face where I knew he needed me as much as I needed him. I was waiting for words to form on his lips that had on mine so many damn times, though I had been unable to speak them. _Every_ time I imagined them being said, a piece of me would die with it, knowing that it'd never happen and _that_ was what "it" was.

_It_ was the feeling of being torn in half, a piece of me left with Nick, though he didn't even notice.

I stood there with a group of guys in a daze for a good twenty minutes. My eyes didn't form shapes and my mind forgot colors. I had forgotten what it felt like to watch Nick speak to girls, though it was normally about them. The last time it had happened, it had been so innocent. We were both young and he hadn't even known the definition of what a "date" was when they had gone to that football game. And now... now I was watching Nick pick up girls and as stupid as it sounded it_ tore_ at me.

I felt a tug on my sleeve and when I turned around, my heart escalated. There was Nick, _my_ Nicky smiling up at me like he always did. And then suddenly he leaned forward, his lips grazing my ear and if not for the words that came out of his mouth, I would have shivered.

"Hey, I'm gonna bring her back to the dorm. I'll put a tie around the handle if there's uh... anything goin' on."

When he pulled away, I saw Nick wink at me in a hinting manner, before my eyes scanned down his arm and noticed the way his hand was connected with the girl's.

My heart _plummeted_. I watched Nick with his back turned to me as he walked out of the large room with his hand surrounding the small dainty one with, what I was sure, was soft skin that mind own, rough and calloused, didn't compare to. It took only moments until I realized where they were going and what was going to happen.

Puke ran up the back of my throat, acid stinging the lining and causing me to gag as I ran toward the nearest bathroom. I felt like a girl as I leaned over the sink, dry heaves causing my stomach and chest to contract and push anything that I had out, which was almost nothing. I was probably overreacting, but I couldn't bring myself to care as my thoughts lingered on what was happening in _my_ room in _my _bed.

Soon, Nick would be kissing her and she would be laying naked in _our_ sheets. It was the one place I had ever sought comfort. It was the place, late at night, where I could let every single wall I had put up so Nick didn't see my one secret, fall. It was the one _thing_ we had where distance didn't matter. There were nights in that bed when I felt his arms warp around me in his sleep, I assumed, and his breath hit the back of my neck. It was the _one_ place I could _pretend_ to have everything that I wanted and _craved_ for as long as I'd realized what I was.

It was _ours_.

We had moved thousands of miles away from each other, parted over breaks, cried over web cams, and _this small_ piece of spring and cotton was all I had now to confirm that Nick was _here _with me. Just like that night years ago when I had been woken up in the middle of darkness to find my mother on our floor unconscious and I had sought warmth from Nick then, his small hand pressed against my back until they found my face, wiping what tears had fallen down my childish features.

It was, late at night when he was asleep, my place to lay my fingers between his and imagine what it'd feel like for his to tighten around mine.

And now, Nick was going to _have_ someone else in them. Everything I had imagined, every sigh and moaned I had dreamed about Nick making was going to finally be heard by the walls, but they would be made by another person. Another _girl_, who was so unlike me in every way with dark hair and light eyes...

My hands cupped water to splash against my face and rinse my mouth out. As stupid and selfish as I knew I sounded, my best friend was loosing his virginity in our room and all I could think about was: Why wasn't _I _loosing mine _with_ him? I wanted to loose myself in him. I wanted to press my lips against his and feel his fingers in my hair, his chest bare against mine and thighs parted for me and I wanted to hear my name as I buried myself in him and gasped into his mouth. I wanted to make _him _feel good and I wanted to _show_ him how much I loved him.

The water that ran down my face meshed with the salty substance that fell from my eyes, half of my hair dripping as well. I didn't bother to wipe it away as I left the bathroom or even glance in the direction of the rest of the guys I knew. My feet carried me aimlessly forward until I found myself just outside our door. I was appalled with myself. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to hear it or see it and I didn't want to think about it. My lip quivered and took a step back until my shoulders hit the wall, as though the door was on fire. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, thinking of the possible reasons why my body would bring me here while simultaneously going through places I could try and spend the night and hopefully the rest of the next day until I noticed that... there was no tie.

Through the dense fog that was my logic, I realized that there was no tie present on the handle, a sign Nick had said would be there if...

Head blank, my muscles tensed. Every single part of me screamed to turn around and to not look back because most likely he had simply forgotten about the small act in his... situation, but there was this small quiet voice that I had shut for so goddamn long that was begging me to reach out and open our door.

And I did.

The room was dark, no lights were on and everything was quiet. No movement or single muscle twitched for seconds except for my eyes, which sought out a familiar face, hoping pitifully for the lack of _two_, when I saw Nick sitting at the edge of our bed.

He was leaning forward on his knees, hands covering his face until I opened the door farther until light covered his fingers.

His eyes met mine and my face fell. There was this desperate look of sadness that almost made me drop to my knees and ask him what was wrong. He just looked so incredibly _broken_. His skin almost drooped off his bones, frown so present I thought it was stuck and my chest _ached_ at the sight of his brows scrunched together, eyes dark and lined with a wetness I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't looked up and the light had caught it.

I wanted to make a joke or pat his back or just _hug_ him because the only thought that made sense was that something had gone wrong or he had been rejected. As much as it tore me knowing that Nick would have been with someone else, it was a thousand times worse, hundreds of knives piercing my body, at the thought that Nick was _hurt_.

Instead I stood there in silence and closed the door, unknowing what to say.

It seemed for a long while Nick didn't either.

"I tried."

I frowned in response as his voice broke the awful silence. His gaze was on the floor, unfocused and far from me as he spoke.

"I tried." His voice broke, breath uneven and shoulders shaking. "I couldn't _do _it."

I was completely perplexed, not sure what to say in a moment like this when, my best friend, the love of my life was sitting so torn apart as I was. I wanted to say something, _anything_ to show that I was listening to him and I was here, but I couldn't form words. My hands clenched into fists in irritation at myself and I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts when I heard the bed springs hiss at the loss of weight.

When I opened my eyes, Nick was standing just in front of me, so close that if I just leaned forward inches, I could _taste_...

"I'm sorry," his voice came out again as best it could. "I couldn't do it, Jeffy. I couldn't-"

And for a split second I thought Nick was going to hug me because his arms reached up and just as I found myself reacting to press him against me in comfort, there was a weight on my hips and I was being forced backward until the door jerked on its hinges and I was pressed against oak, something foreign and hard pressed between my legs, thick against my own as it ground against me and I whimpered.

I heard Nick's voice one last time before lips slammed against mine and my head cracked against the door, my entire body paralyzed with shooting nerves to every toe and finger in absolute _pleasure._

"I couldn't do it if it's not with you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The next chapter will be a little shorter and coming very soon. ^_^


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